


In the Christmas Spirit

by sassafrasx



Series: Holiday Fic [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassafrasx/pseuds/sassafrasx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt: "It's not my fault, all I asked for was a kiss under the mistletoe! Nobody specified that the mistletoe had to be above my head..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Christmas Spirit

Gwaine rolled his eyes as he walked into the roaring Christmas do at Pendragon Manor. While he was never one to turn down a good time, especially if it involved copious amounts of liquor and fit blokes, the type of poncy vultures that always circled around Uther and his ilk were definitely worth avoiding (not to mention the potential of running into Gwaine’s own family). There were plenty of pubs where Gwaine would much rather pull than here.

But Arthur would be here and Gwaine had _plans_. Very specific ones in fact.

It was about damn time he sorted things with Pendragon; the rest of the footie team would probably weep with joy if he succeeded. There was no need for the tension between the two of them to keep rubbing off on everyone else after all. It was for the greater good.

Shouldering past plastered socialites (and if Cenred somehow ended up in a potted plant, it was purely accidental, really), Gwaine made his way to the corner of the living room where he knew he’d find Arthur holding court over most of their mates.

True to form, Arthur was there smirking into his drink and raising his eyebrows at whatever animated discussion Merlin and Lance were having. Gwaine couldn’t help but smile; Arthur might act like an arrogant prick, but the fact that his best mates were people like Merlin and Lance and Leon told a completely different story.

Sauntering up he clapped Arthur hard on the shoulder, nearly making him spill his drink, and said, “No need to worry! I’m here now, so the party can officially begin.”

Arthur groaned. “Remind me why we ever invite you to anything?”

“I’m wounded, Princess. Truly wounded. And to think I even planned to give you your Christmas present tonight.” Gwaine held a hand to his chest in mock hurt.

Arthur only looked wary. “A _present_?”

“Yes, a _present_. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t give presents at Christmas?”

Merlin was snickering by this point, amused, knowing eyes laughing cheerfully. “Oh yes, Gwaine came by yesterday to exchange presents. He even had one for my mum.”

“Hunith is a fine woman, I could never leave her out,” Gwaine said with a wink.

“Oh god, please stop reminding me of your shameless flirting. She’s my _mum_.”

Lance burst out laughing as Merlin’s whole body shuddered. “And I bet she sent him home with a whole pudding and a tin of biscuits and who knows what else.”

“That she did.” Gwaine sighed dreamily, imagining all the delights waiting for him at home.

Arthur had been watching the whole exchange with a small frown and broke in hesitantly, “But I haven’t got you anything.”

And that was so utterly adorable, Gwaine had no doubts that he’d made the right choice. Whatever else he might be, it was that honest loyalty that made Gwaine want to coax him out of his prickly shell. Seeing the way Lance and Merlin were looking at each other, wheezing with the effort of holding in their laughter at Arthur’s concern, Gwaine grabbed Arthur by the arm and began to drag him across the room, saying, “Oh, mate, it’s a small thing, really, I wouldn’t worry about it. And besides, I know exactly what you can give me in return.”

As they made their way into the hallway, Arthur loudly questioning where in the hell they were going, Gwaine could hear hysterical guffaws in their wake.

—

“Okay, you’ve managed to drag me into one of the guestrooms. What do you want, Gwaine?” Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes.

Giving him his most charming grin and flipping his hair over his shoulder, he said, “To give you your present, of course! And since you’re so worried, all I ask for in return is a kiss under the mistletoe. In fact, I couldn’t ask for a better Christmas present.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you noticed Gwaine, but there isn’t exactly any mistletoe in here.”

“Arthur, Arthur, you must have made a horrible scout. Always be prepared,” he said and whipped a sprig out of his jacket. “‘Tis the Christmas season after all.”

The look of slack-jawed disbelief on Arthur was wonderful. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. I believe you owe me a kiss, Princess.” He waved the mistletoe enticingly with a playful leer.

“For fuck’s sake…” But Arthur stomped forward grumpily anyway.

Before Arthur could lay a quick peck on his lips, he interrupted, “Ah, ah,” and waved the mistletoe around in front of his belly. “I said _under_ the mistletoe."

Arthur blinked and looked down at the mistletoe and back up, and down and up again. “You have got to be joking. Even for you, Gwaine. You cannot possibly expect me to fall for this harebrained scheme of yours just to get me to give you a blow job.”

Gwaine feigned innocence. “Who said anything about blow jobs? Although now that you mention it, I would certainly not be averse to that development—”

“ _Gwaine_.”

“But all I asked for was a kiss under the mistletoe! I never said that the mistletoe had to be over my head. Or which head, rather. Let’s go with the blow job idea though. I like that one.”

“God, Gwaine, you are such a _slag_.” Arthur was huffing in annoyance, a hot flush spreading from the bridge of his nose as he was clearly trying to avoid looking at the head in question. And failing miserably if Gwaine could say so himself. Damn but did he love flustering Arthur.

“Well, yeah, but a very fit slag who always reciprocates blow jobs. Nothing says Christmas like the giving and receiving of blow jobs, Pendragon. Nothing. It’s like the ultimate representation of the Christmas spirit. And you should feel honoured because I came all this way just to share it with you.”

“Oh my _god_ , you’re so— Just _shut up_ already, you crazy bastard.” And with that Arthur surged forward and slammed him into the wall, crashing their mouths together. Gwaine hummed his approval and let himself be manhandled a bit, let Arthur get out whatever weird, angry confusion he’d clearly been caught up in. Arthur might have been unsure and frustrated about his attraction to Gwaine, but luckily for him Gwaine had always known he’d be worth the wait.

Of course there was also the fact that riling Arthur up was beyond entertaining and usually the highlight of Gwaine’s week.

And if the possessive and demanding, but almost hesitant way Arthur was kissing him — all harsh pants and strong, firm hands and soft, needy moans — was any indication, the next hour was about to be the highlight of Gwaine’s month. Hell, his _year_ even.

Arthur Pendragon was an entitled arse whose family represented everything he despised about the world. But there was something better, something _more_ about Arthur and suddenly Gwaine realised with absolute certainty that this was about so much more than releasing tension or pulling the ridiculously blond and attractive footie captain.

“I cannot believe you just expect me to— _Fuck_ ,” Arthur growled, shoving at Gwaine’s jumper and sneaking a hand underneath to scrape at the skin across his back.

As Arthur bit down the side of his neck and grinded into him, he managed to wheeze out, “Reciprocation, Arthur. Besides, seeing how tightly wound up you’ve been recently, I knew there was only one thing I wanted to give you.”

Pinning Gwaine to the wall with his forearm digging in just below Gwaine’s neck, Arthur scowled. “ _How tightly I’ve been wound up?_ Is that all this is then, some game to you? Another notch on your belt? Because I am not interested in being someone else you’ll later joke about finally winning over.”

“No, Arthur. I may be a shameless flirt, but I don’t toy with people or fuck around with their emotions. You _know_ that. You’re my friend and I would never do that to you. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I keep pursuing you because _I like you_? Because I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Panting a bit, he forced himself to keep eye contact through his confession. He wanted, _needed_ Arthur to understand that he was completely serious. Had never been more serious, in fact.

Arthur was still frowning, although he seemed to falter a bit in consideration. Cupping Arthur’s cheek in one hand, he pulled him closer, murmuring, “You’re ridiculous and _blond_ and you drive me up a wall half the time, but you’re also kind and loyal and stupidly noble, even though no one is noble like that anymore, and I think if I had you I wouldn’t ever want anyone else, as horrifying as that thought is.” With that he kissed him again, slower this time, deepening it gradually until he was licking softly into Arthur's mouth, tongue curling against the roof and drawing out needy whimpers.

Arthur groaned. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Chuckling, Gwaine said, “Oh, I think I might have an idea. You’ll find it under the mistletoe.”

Head thunking down onto Gwaine’s shoulder, Arthur shook with silent laughter. “You are absolutely insufferable.” Abruptly he pulled back and gave Gwaine a long, heated look, saying, “Somehow I think there’s only one way to shut you up.”

Smirking, he reached down and yanked Gwaine’s shirt off, dragging his palms along his shoulders and chest, and, yeah, Gwaine might have to concede his point. _This was exactly what he’s been craving._

When Arthur dropped to his knees in front of him, tugging firmly at his belt and trousers and growling possessively as he finally got a hand in his pants, Gwaine barely stopped his eyes from rolling back in his head. He didn’t want to miss a single second of the show in front of him.

God, his mouth. _His fucking mouth._ It was that damn mouth that had fueled Gwaine’s fantasies for far too long.

Pulling Gwaine’s cock out, Arthur flicked his tongue across the top and rubbed his lips along the shaft, bright eyes locked on Gwaine’s the entire time. As he lapped eagerly at the pre-come smeared at the tip, grip tight around the base, Arthur sighed in contentment and Gwaine couldn’t stop himself from burying his hands in Arthur’s hair and tugging him farther onto his cock. Arthur merely hummed and hollowed his cheeks, putting the exact right amount of pressure on him and twirling his tongue on every upstroke, the perfectionist bastard.

There was officially nothing like that stubborn Pendragon determination to be the best at everything wrapped around his cock. Absolutely nothing at all.

Then Arthur looked up at him from under his eyelashes and grabbed him by the arse, fingers flexing tightly into his skin. By this point his mouth was completely slick with spit and pre-come and he somehow managed to open _wider_ , letting Gwaine set the pace and thrust in as deeply as he wanted. And that was just— That was _so fucking hot_ and going to tip him over the edge much too soon.

Unable to stop the high-pitched whines from escaping, he yanked on Arthur’s hair, hitting the back of his throat and coming in long, breathless pulses.

Thank fuck for Christmas and mistletoe and gorgeous idiots with talented tongues and soft, soft hair.

And Arthur, he just swallowed like a pro before surging up and mashing their mouths back together for a hot, wet kiss. Drawing himself back together, Gwaine flipped them around, using his body weight to pin Arthur to the wall and flashing him a mischievous smirk.

“I believe I promised some reciprocation, didn’t I? Would hate to disappoint.”

Falling to his knees, he stripped Arthur quickly and admired the perfect, thick length of him. He tugged a little at the foreskin and nuzzled into the base of his cock, breathing him in and enjoying every second of it.

“I swear to god, if you give my cock rug burn with your beard, I will murder you in your sleep. I’m giving you clear warning. A slow, painful _death_.”

Gwaine only laughed and smacked him on the arse. Arthur wasn’t the only one who knew how to shut someone up and he intended to put that knowledge to good use.

He thought he could happily spend all the time in the world — or as much as Arthur would give him — exploring every little trick and secret to Arthur’s moans.


End file.
